Love is a Path Worth Taking
by dirtylittlegleeks
Summary: "I didn't do anything wrong!" Blaine runs into some trouble at the Anderson home, and Kurt's there to comfort him throughout. Will things be sorted between the Anderson family? rated k  for some language. I don't own Glee, or Crisscolfer


"I didn't do anything _wrong_!" Blaine hissed in anger as his dad stormed up the stairs to him.

"Didn't do anything wrong? You are ruining you life with your, _choices_." Mr. Anderson snarled at the last word, making the anger boil in Blaine's chest.

"It's not my choice! I can't just decide to be gay, Dad! I am who I am. And YOUR not going to change that."

"You need to see someone about this. This is not normal."

"NORMAL?" Blaine was furious now, "SINCE WHEN DID YOU CARE IF I WAS NORMAL?" Blaine stormed down the hall and slammed his door shut. Tears burned the back of his eyes, but he blinked them back, overwhelmed with anger and hurt. He heard his father shouting, "... and you are no longer allowed to attend Dalton. We better ship him away, before he contaminates the rest of the house. We have to cancel our trip to Aruba. We can't afford to contaminate there, too."

Blaine felt like running. Far away. Until he couldn't breathe. With trembling fingers, he pulled out his phone and texted his boyfriend _(boyfriend!)_ Kurt.

_I __need __to __talk __to __you, _now.

Blaine grabbed what he though he needed for the night, and his phone rang., the normally happy sounds of Katy Perry seeming too light for this occasion. He answered, feeling a bit of relief as his boyfriend's voice flooded through the phone.

"Blaine? What happened?" Kurt's angelic voice was tinged with worry.

"K-Kurt. My.. my dad snapped."

"Oh my Gaga Blaine. Do you need a place to stay or-"

"That would be lovely, but I don't mean to be a nuisance or anything, but I really need to get out of here."

"You'd never be a nuisance, babe. And, Blaine?"

"Hmm?" he mumbled into the phone, grabbing his guitar from his closet.

"I love you,"

Blaine smiled faintly, "Love you too, see ya soon."

Blaine hung up the phone, grabbed his bag, and headed down the stairs. A shout from behind him made him stop in his tracks, "Where the hell do you think you're going?"

"Anywhere but here." Blaine said, continuing down the stairs. _Courage,_ he had once said to Kurt. _Time __to __take __my __own __advice._

"No, you're not." Mr. Anderson grabbed his son's arm, making him twist him around, knocking him off balance and sending him down a flight of stairs. _Crap_Blaine thought as he rolled to a stop on the bottom of the staircase. He stood up, feeling a sharp pain in his leg. "Shit." He mumbled, and, limping out the door, climbed into his car and started to drive to Kurt's house. He ran a hand through his hair, wincing when he hit a particularly sore spot, as the argument kept replaying itself in his head. _How __had __it __even __started? __With __Blaine __asking __his __dad __for __a __favor? __The __whole __thing __was __silly, __really._ The rain had just started to come down, the pounding of the rain interrupting Blaine's train of thought every now and again. The thoughts sent his mind spinning and he felt dizzy by the time he pulled up into the driveway of the Hudmel house.

Kurt had been pacing the house for the past hour, even though it was 1 in the morning. What had happened? Was Blaine hurt? He heard Blaine's blue Sedan pull up in the driveway, and all but rushed, pulling open the door. Blaine looked flushed, and was limping. _Oh __no,_ Kurt thought as he ran over to Blaine, grabbing the bags he was carrying and taking it into the house. Blaine entered the house somewhat later, and, upon arrival, was tugged into Kurt's tight embrace, leading him to the couch. He felt Blaine's breathing even out, and set him back. Burt had apparently come downstairs without Kurt noticing, so he said, "Settle him in and get him a blanket. In the morning, we'll check out his leg, and ask him what happened. He'll be fine." Burt smiled slightly and went back upstairs. Kurt got a fleece blanket from his room and hummed lightly as he placed the blanket over Blaine. He lied down next to him, and whispered, "I love you, Blaine," shut his eyes and went to sleep.

* * *

><p>Blaine's eyes opened, taking time to adjust to his surroundings. Where was he? Blaine sat up, feeling slightly dizzy. <em>Oh, right.<em> He turned to look at the kitchen, where Kurt was humming a very familiar Teenage Dream, completely oblivious to Blaine. He turned around, almost dropping whatever he was holding. "Oh my.. Blaine!" He ran over to him, sitting on the floor, looking up at Blaine.

"Good morning to you, too," Blaine winced at the scratchy voice that escaped from him. "What happened?"

Kurt shuffled slightly to sit on his knees, grabbing Blaine's hand. "That, my dearest Blaine, I was hoping you'd tell me."

Blaine moved his leg ever so slightly, wanting to make room for Kurt, but grimaced at the pain that shot through his leg.

"Don't do that," Kurt said, who had somehow appeared by Blaine's leg, lifting it carefully and placing it gently onto the floor.

"Thanks," Blaine mumbled, "umm.. I guess I should tell you. So, to be honest, I really don't remember how it started. I was asking for a favor from my dad, big mistake, and he kinda just... snapped. I mean, my dad was my hero, until I came out to him. He left a welt on my face and screamed at my mom, telling her what I am. After that, he just packed his bag and left. I begged my mom not to kick me out of the house, and she didn't. She accepted me... but I could feel the space growing between us..." Blaine sniffed, and wiped a tear hastily, it hurt to tell the story.

"Blaine, I-I'm so sorry," Kurt was crying, too.

"Don't be, it doesn't change anything. Anyway, he just yelled, calling me a 'disgrace to the Anderson name'. My brother is the spitting image of my father, tall, smart, handsome, has a beautiful girlfriend, etc. But me? I'm just the weird gay kid w-who likes to sing and p-play guitar, and has unbelievably c-curly hair, wh-who wants that?" Blaine chuckled with self-pity.

"Blaine, I want that. I want the amazing gay kid who's 'sex on a stick and sings like a dream' (2) or so I'm told, and plays guitar magically, and, god Blaine, what I would give to see that hair of yours out of it's gel prison." Kurt leaned in, pressing his lips to Blaine's, showing him, rather than explaining his feelings for Blaine.

"K-Kurt, do- do you really mean that?"

"I do. Even the sex on a stick part." Kurt finally manages that lopsided smile out of Blaine, the one that does amazing things to his stomach.

"I should finish. So after I hung up the phone, I started going down the stairs, but he grabbed my arm. That sent me off balance, causing me to fall down the stairs. Then, I just... left. And here I am now."

"Oh, do you think he meant to hurt you?"

"No, I hope not." Blaine shrugged.

"Let's get some food in you, you look like you haven't ate in ages." Kurt jumped up, hoisting Blaine off the couch too.

"Well, I really haven't... I got here at about 12-ish, so two hours, it was ten, the argument actually started right before dinner, so that was like 8ish, yeah, we eat late on the wee-mppphh!" Blaine's rambling was interrupted by Kurt's lips, the polite way of telling his to shut up. They pulled apart with a pop, Blaine sighing happily. "You could have just told me to shut up, you know."

Kurt smirked, making Blaine's stomach flutter, "But what would be the fun in that?"

"I love you,"

"I love you too, but I care more about your eating habits sooo..." Kurt shoved a piece of waffle into Blaine's mouth, stifling his bright laughter that still rang throughout the house anyway.

"Thh yoo fr thh wffl," Blaine said around a mouth full of food.

"Don't talk with your mouth full!" Kurt was trying to act serious but a laugh built up, giving him away.

Blaine swallowed (1) and stuck his tongue out and shoved Kurt playfully. Yeah, he could get used to this.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**  
><strong>(1) oh the sexual innuendos.<strong>  
><strong>(2) as said by Sebastian the gay man-whore... :P<strong>


End file.
